


The thing is

by linzackles



Series: That's it? That's it. [4]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linzackles/pseuds/linzackles
Summary: Beth needs money and Rio isn’t feeling all that charitable.





	The thing is

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if this is any good, it's very random, but I had it in my mind so decided to write it, and my current WIP is very angsty so I thought I'd post it.

The thing is, she needs it for Ruby.

And the last two times she’d just directly asked him for it, it hadn’t gone too well – _Yeah, I’m not Merrill Lynch_; _Thing is, I’m a little dry right now, you know how it is_ – so this time she has an alternative plan. It’s not fully formed, but she doesn’t have much time. Sarah needs this new procedure and she needs it within the next week.

So even though it feels she has no control of her life at the moment, she needs to make this happen.

She wades through the mess of toys and playtime debris – god, is that a half-eaten hotdog in that paper plate over there?? – to let Rio in. The very fact that he’s using the front door should be enough of an indicator of his mood, but she doesn’t have the mental space to take that apart.

She’s been babysitting Dean’s nephews and nieces – a favour to him that she regretted nearly immediately, and not even because those three children are demons or because four and three makes seven and Beth is _not _equipped for that sort of madness. No, it’s that he’s used the opportunity to try and worm his way back into her life, and it’s so difficult not to let him when she needs some support. She’d let him sleep over last night and it had been a mistake. He’d cornered her, tried kissing her, and though she’d pushed him away then, this morning she’d woken up unsure. Of everything.

What is she doing with her life? Isn’t it better to try and fix something that had once worked than have nothing at all?

But she shoves these thoughts from her mind as Rio enters, judgement coming from the very way he places he feet and surveys the house.

She immediately wishes she’d had the time to clean up first, but it’s too late now. She leads him to the kitchen then clears her throat.

“I have a business proposal.”

“You ain't gonna offer me sum'n to drink or nothin?”

It knocks the wind right out of her sails and when the look on his face tells her that’s exactly what he’d intended, she glares.

“What would you like?”

“Whatchu got?”

He is truly the most frustrating person she’s ever met.

“Water.” He raises a displeased brow and she lets out a breath, trying to recall what’s in the drinks cart. “Um. Brandy. Vodka. Soda. Gin.”

“Water sounds good.”

She levels a glare at him, but he only looks more amused, so she turns to get a bottle of water from the fridge then passes it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it, but he makes no move to open it.

God, it's like he'd gotten a handbook on how to piss her off.

“So. You was propositionin me.”

Knowing he intends her to flush at that, she forces herself not to blush.

Then, just when she's about to speak, he sets the bottle of water aside on the counter behind him.

Beth holds back a biting remark and she sees the gleam in his eyes. He's pleased she's annoyed. He's still _trying_ to rile her up.

Thinking of Sara, she clears her throat.

“There's this pop-up market. One of the women on the PTA runs it and she's the only one who knows where it's gonna be every week. Well, the Saturday, anyway. The Sunday is... not the point.”

His little smile makes her feel stupid and, flushing, Beth regrets that second bourbon. She hadn’t had time to clean the house, but she’d had to prep for his arrival _somehow_.

“The point is, I can get her to tell me where it'll be every week.”

“How you gon' do that?”

“I'll volunteer to co-organise,” she shrugs.

“Then what? You gonna smuggle fresh produce for me?”

She represses a glare.

“No, I'll... wash cash.”

He shakes his head. “It's a bad idea.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Moves around too much.”

“Yeah, that's the good thing.”

“Naw, that's whatchu call a liability.”

God. She feels like he’s deliberately not even considering it.

“I think you just need to give it some more thought.”

His smirk is mean.

“Oh, someone didn't give it enough thought, alright.”

She’s so close to snapping – but, _Sara_.

“Well, is there anything else you have for me to do?”

“I'm good, but thanks,” he drawls, voice filled with derision.

Beth’s lips curl.

“Do you get off on being a complete asshole?”

He rolls his eyes, pushing off.

“Sure, sometimes.”

She can see he's about to leave and finds herself sputtering, desperate.

“You can't just walk away!”

“Think you forgettin who's the one who needs who here,” he mutters in half-amusement, nearly out of the kitchen.

And she does need him and he knows it, both of which finally push the needle all the way.

“Well, next time you have something you need done, don't come to me!”

It stops him.

Something unfurls in her stomach, cold and feathered as it spindles off into branches of fear. It's the set of his shoulders; the coil of his back.

Then he turns. Slowly, so slowly.

He fixes her with a glare that makes her swallow, trying to keep her chin up. It’s a challenge. She's scared but, god, it's the only way she knows how to deal with this side of him.

He takes it – of course he does. Slowly, deliberately, he passes his gaze around the room, from the dirty counters to the strewn-around toys and the bloody hotdog.

“Baby, you a whole mess. Why the fuck would I wanna get any further into bed wit’ you?”

And the thing is, maybe if he hadn't said that – hadn’t plucked at the most sensitive nerve she has right now – things would've been different. Maybe.

But as it stands, she launches forward – genuinely not sure whether she's going to pummel or slap him – and he catches and tugs her with absurd ease; tugs her all the way in to him till her chest is pressed to his, his iron grip on her wrist almost bruising. And despite the way he's looking at her, furious and as if trying to place her next move, there's really no choice in it. She has no choice but to lean up, pulling her left hand loose from between them to press his neck down, and god, the kiss is–

It careens from soft to explosive in a second and suddenly he's letting go of her wrist to put both hands on her body, pushing her back forcefully against the counter. Then he's undoing the buttons on her blouse so roughly she thinks they may pop off, but he doesn't seem to care, ripping it open only to jerk away her bra cups too. Then his mouth isn't on hers anymore but wrapped around her nipple and Beth thinks she could come just from the way he's sucking hotly as his hand kneads possessively at the other. His free hand darts between her thighs, though, and she spreads them without a second thought, letting him rub her over the jeans before darting to undo the button. He releases her breast with a pop before straightening to give her a demanding look.

“Couch, now.”

She can barely breathe as she reaches down to undo the zippers on her boots and pull them off.

“I said _now_,” Rio growls.

Bristling, she shoves him, hard.

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

It doesn't move him that much, but it quashes the last of the tension of their argument as he shuts up and backs off, waiting. 

For a few moments they just stare at each other. He rolls his shoulders, jaw ticking as he plays at patience.

Slowly, deliberately, she begins to pull her blouse from her shoulders then shimmies out of her jeans. Lastly she undoes her bra and lets it fall to the kitchen tiles.

Rio’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth, jeans tented, and she feels extraordinarily confident as she walks backwards towards the couch.

Her eyes are on the ground, though, to make sure she doesn’t trip over anything, and so when he’s suddenly in front of her, pulling her against him, she gasps.

Her sensitive nipples rub over his T-shirt and her fingers rush to pull it off him. Once it’s cleared his head, he pulls her back against him and Beth’s hands go to his jeans.

“You got me so fuckin hard, I can’t think, Elizabeth,” he complains into her ear.

“Then don’t,” she breathes, shoving it down with his underwear.

He spins her with nearly no effort and Beth’s barely blinked when he pulls her to him again, cock pressing hard into her back and she moans a little before getting a lot louder as his fingers press into her.

She’s so damn wet and Rio groans before shoving down her panties. He pushes her till she’s on her forearms and knees on the couch. She crosses her wrists over one another, clenching as she hears him kick off his clothing.

Then he’s on his knees behind her and Beth cries out when he enters her, her back arching.

“Oh my god,” she moans, sucking in a harsh breath.

His hands go to her hips and then he’s fucking her onto him and it’s incredible.

Long fingers press ten dents into the curves of her hips as he pulls and pushes, setting a rhythm that his own hips match and she moves along to it till it’s too perfect and their breaths are almost as loud as their bodies as they begin hurtling toward –

All of a sudden he uses his grip to tug her up and she’s boneless, a ragdoll, as he pulls out then turns her around. He pitches forward to kiss her and it’s harsh, unyielding. She nearly falls back, putting an arm out to stop herself. Her other wraps around his head and he hums in satisfaction.

“Yeah, mami, c’mere,” he mutters, slipping his hands under her thighs to support her weight as he lifts her so her hips bracket his.

Only her arm and his hands are holding her up, but she doesn't have time to worry about it.

“Oh, fuck,” she moans when he enters her again, the angle completely new to her.

He’s so close and she’s so full and she feels an inch away from tripping from the cliff. He rocks into her, head buried in her neck, and she gets so lost in it that the orgasm seems to come from nowhere.

Her nails dig deep into his neck as he bites hard and it makes it hit her even harder; she finds herself crying out, hitting him, just like she had that night in the bathroom.

She unfurls, a mix of curses and whimpers, and then he’s coming too, jerking into her, and she’s still shaking by the time he bottoms out with a grunt.

“Fuck,” he says into her neck, where she’s pretty sure he’s bitten a bruise.

Then all at once the rest of her body makes itself known – her palm is aching where it’s pressed into the couch, her elbow is screaming and she wouldn’t be surprised if her hips and thighs have bruises too in the shape of his hands.

He seems to notice, slowly letting her down so she can peel herself away from him, and they both take a second to catch their breath.

God. Sometimes he makes her feel like she’s never had sex before – or not like it should be, anyway – and all she hopes is that he doesn’t know it.

Turning away, she reaches for the box of tissues beside the couch then sets it between them so they can clean up. After a minute, Rio stands and pulls on his jeans and underwear. Beth nibbles at her lip, realising her clothing is in the kitchen. Thankfully there’s a throw blanket over the couch and she reaches to pull it over her. Rio smirks at this and she curses the way her cheeks blossom with red. 

He seems to be inwardly debating something and she’s wondering what it could be when he sits down in the space in front of her then pulls her to him, his hand in her neck firm.

The kiss is lingering and she falls into it, hypnotised by his tender lips and determined tongue.

It feels like they kiss for hours but when he pulls away, it feels too soon and this, too, she tries not to show.

He can never know that she wants more, even though, god, it’s all she wants.

So she tries to overcompensate.

“And you said you _didn’t_ want to get any further into bed with me, right?”

He fixes her with a displeased glare but she feels pretty proud of herself, smirking, and he looks away with half an eye roll.

Her triumph is short-lived, though, as the little reference reminds her how they’d gotten here.

“Rio,” she breathes.

She’s scared, so scared. But he’s still here, sitting on the little bit of couch in front of her, and she takes it as a good sign.

He doesn’t turn to look at her but he does incline his head a little so she knows he heard her.

She clears her throat, half out of shame and half to draw out this moment for even a second longer. This moment before business comes back in and destroys everything.

It’s funny, isn’t it? The only thing in the world that could’ve brought them together is also the thing that always keeps them apart.

“I really need the money.”

Silence.

Then: “How much you need?”

She bites on her lip.

“Thirty grand.”

And now his head whips around so he can regard her with incredulity.

“Thirty gees? That's what got you stressin, ma?”

This rattles her, relief and joy bouncing from her bones.

But the mocking in his tone also annoys her.

“It's a lot of money if you don't have it.”

The amusement drops from his face as he considers this. Then, slowly, he nods.

“A'ight. Imma need your banking details.” He gets up to put on his T-shirt. “And it ain't gon' be funny so don't go fuckin washin it.”

Beth frowns deep, watching his abs disappear beneath the black material.

“My banking details?”

“That's right.”

She clears her throat again, knowing there is only one valid explanation for this, but unable to accept it.

“You're... personally loaning me the money?”

Rio smirks. “Naw, this all just an elaborate banking fraud scheme.”

“_Are you_ involved in banking fraud?” she asks, blinking back at him as he retakes his seat to get his shoes on.

“Why? You got experience? Lookin to up your resumé?”

It’s derisive again, but something makes her answer honestly.

“No, but when we're... like this,” she gestures to the couch awkwardly, “I feel like I know you, or know some part of you, I guess,” she stumbles, struggles, “and then it's over and... you're a stranger again.” Her cheeks are burning, she wants to stop, but it’s too late now. She has to finish or her reasoning won’t make sense. “The only things you ever tell me about you have to do with your business,” she explains.

_I flip my game_, she remembers and, she can tell, so does he.

He stares back at her, considering, then lets out a breath.

“A'ight. One question. Anythin you want. I'll answer.”

She falters, entirely stunned by this change of attitude.

“Anything?”

“That's what I said.”

And a million dance through her mind: _Is Rio your real name? Is Christopher? How old are you? What's your last name? Why did you pack up your place after I saw it? Why am I still alive?_

“What's your favourite kind of cupcake?”

She thinks he would've looked less surprised if she'd just pulled a grenade from her pocket.

“_What's my favourite cupcake_?”

“Yes.”

“That's your question?”

But the thing is, she realises, he's _not_ a stranger. She knows if she asks anything truly personal, even if he answers, it'll only make him pull away; go cold and distant. The same way she'd gotten a peek into his life and then he'd jerked it away from her. She knows that, she knows him.

“That's my question.”

“A'ight,” he shrugs. “Yours to waste.”

Beth looks down and, catching sight of his arm right there, she doesn’t let herself think about it. She just lets her fingers lightly trace over the veins in his arm.

He looks down at her hand on him before his gaze goes up to her eyes. She holds her breath. Will he ask her to stop?

“It gotta be one of them lame bakery flavours? Strawberry, vanilla, that kinda shit?”

She smiles. “No, your real favourite flavour.”

“Dulce de leche. You know what that is?”

“I know what that is.”

He grins, as if remembering the last time he’d had one.

“Mmm, yeah. With the caramel centre, too, that shit's dope.”

Her smile widens at seeing him so joyful about something so simple.

“Ok.”

She removes her hand from his arm, knowing he’s about to leave.

He does stand a second later, but he takes a moment to look down at her. It catches her off guard and she blinks below his gaze. She doesn’t know what he’s looking for but he seems to find it, nodding a little.

Then he steps away and looks around at the state of the house with renewed contempt.

“If I add a lil extra, you gonna get someone to come clean all this up?”

She lifts a brow.

“I'm not paying that back.”

Rio shakes his head with a smile like he doesn't quite know what to do with her.

“Cool.” 

He shoots her one last look over his shoulder as he walks away and she smiles bashfully back. 

Then the front door clicks and Beth just lays there for a while, replaying the way he’d touched her and kissed her. Somehow Rio ignites something inside her that she doesn’t think Dean ever has.

Reaching for her phone and laptop on the coffee table, she pulls them both onto her lap. She texts Ruby then sends Rio her banking details and he doesn’t reply, but she gets a bank notification a minute later.

It says there’s a new deposit in her account of thirty-one thousand dollars and she can’t stop the giddy grin that takes over her face.

He’s the most frustrating person she’s ever met and he also makes her ridiculously happy. It makes no sense. It still leaves her so unsure about so much.

But the thing is, maybe she doesn’t need to be sure after all. Maybe the way they work is fucked up and impossible and a vicious loop, but maybe that’s ok. Maybe it’s better than ok. Maybe she needs it far more than she’s ever needed Dean.

So, opening her laptop, she starts looking for a dulce de leche cupcake recipe.


End file.
